


Barudag

by deadlynightfall



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Oops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3157400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlynightfall/pseuds/deadlynightfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laela. Dunmer babe. Thief, assassin, scholar, Dragonborn - troublemaker all around. Enjoys a stiff drink and good company, as long as there aren't bards involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. journey anew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



The way I remember it, Dagoth-Ur erupted when I was much younger. All I knew beforehand was that Baar Dau was gone – we had watched it fall in utter terror, disbelieving and stubbornly ignoring it, a trait so inherently ingrained in Dunmeri behaviour. I didn’t think anything bad would come from it, but I was very, very wrong. Within hours, we heard the cracking and rumbling of the earth beneath us, threatening to split open. And then it happened, toxic ash and burning chunks of rock were forced from the mouth of the mountain, and Tribunal knows where they landed and who made it out of that. The tephra blanketed the lands and it became deadly to breathe – and we panicked.   
I could remember distinctly the way everyone boarded themselves into their homes by direction of the eldest members of our town. They told us they would help, they would find a way to escape, as long as we listened and obeyed without question, which we had been doing for years anyway. I bundled myself up, covered my mouth with linen scarves, but the air, pungent and black, still stung in my lungs, and it was painful to try and see through the mess. I had volunteered to help people pack their belongings, and any food that was still unspoiled. Silt striders filled quickly, and so many things were left behind, trinkets and paintings and the books that held our history before the Fourth Era.  
My parents were with me every moment, and we worked together to get the others out of Vvardenfell and somewhere safe – we had heard that Mournhold was untouched, and was still habitable – so we sent most of our townsfolk there. This continued for three days, when I began to wonder when my family would be the next to leave. “No matter what happens to us, or to you, muhrjul, remember that we will always be proud of you,” my father told me, attempting to be stern when it looked like he might cry. He placed a hand on my shoulder reassuringly, as my mother added, voice cracking, “We love you, yi khes, always.” “Iam khes, Maelasi,” my father corrected tenderly. My mother removed her necklace, a simple chain she had received as a wedding proposal from my father, and wrapped it around my wrist. “Muhrid jubu,” she murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead and leaving me confused. “Let’s pack your things, Laela,” He added after a moment, pulling me away towards our home, hands entwined with my mother’s.  
“When are you packing your things?” I would ask only to be answered with a sad, dull gaze. I couldn’t think of why my mother and father looked at me this way at first. Had I done something wrong to upset them? If so, where was my punishment? It never came. My few possessions were packed in a satchel, along with some food in another pack to keep my books and clothes from being ruined. On what we thought was the fourth day, it was me that was bundled up into a carriage with the others, while my parents stood by, watching. “Why aren’t they coming with us?” I asked aloud, confused and hurt. The strider began to move, and I shouted in protest, trying to jump from the creature’s back and rejoin my parents. I didn’t succeed, because one of my friends, Karliah, had grabbed my hand and pulled me back. “They can’t come,” she told me. “We’re on our own now.”  
\-------  
We couldn’t tell day from night anymore, because the sun was gone. Everything was unbearably quiet, aside from the silt strider’s various chirps and hollow groans, which sounded about as normal as a silt strider ever would. It was so difficult to see that I wondered if the strider’s driver knew where he was going. None of us dared speak, the ash was so thick, and we could hardly understand anything through the thick layers of cloth on our faces. So I thought. A lot. There wasn’t anything else to do. I wondered what it would be like wherever we were going. I had never traveled with my family to any other city but Vivec, to make pilgrimages, but we knew that Vivec had been destroyed with Baar Dau fell.   
I wondered how we would survive in any place outside of Morrowind with the way our culture worked. We were so self-sufficient, so egocentric that I doubted any place or and person would be hospitable to us. We liked to live in our little bubble with our ash yams and sujamma and we didn’t care about anyone but ourselves, and I didn’t think there was a way we could possibly survive unless that bubble popped. Our resources would last only so long, and there was no way we could stay in Vvardenfell. Everything was dying around us, and I prayed every second that the gods would not forget us.  
The sky got clearer as days passed, but our driver fell ill to the toxic ash. We were left to find someone else who could control the strider. Teldryn Sero, a boy of maybe seventeen, offered to try. I had never talked to him before then, but I relayed directions to him from the sickly driver and we managed for a while until Teldryn seemed to know what he was doing. So we kept on. And then the temperature changed. It was cold, and the few dozen of us in this one strider clung to each other for warmth, leaving Teldryn alone at the front of this massive beast, until Karliah dragged me up to him, where we sat and kept him warm.   
After some time, it became clear we were no longer in Morrowind. The ground was no longer black, but white, and icy, and soon the ash storms let up, only to be replaced by cold storms of a substance none of us could identify. We found ourselves pulling on all the extra clothing we had, eating more of our food, just to stay warm enough. Things looked bleak and it seemed like we wouldn’t survive – especially when the silt strider we had named Gahmerdehn, fell ill as well. We couldn’t save her now that her owner had passed, and we had to continue on foot.   
I had never felt so lost in my life, and I knew the feeling was shared among the other groups who had taken this path as well. There were maybe fifty of us, and as we found ourselves climbing treacherous mountains, the number fell. As the first of us died, I remember the bile forming in my stomach as I realized they couldn’t be burned, as per our custom. We gathered together, covering the bodies with rocks, leaving their clothes wedged between the stone as a marker to anyone foolish enough to follow our footsteps. Even with our prayers for their soul, hoping they would not be reincarnated to suffer this way again, I had begun to lose faith in the gods we worshipped. I cried myself to sleep that night, longing for the comfort of my mother’s embrace, and the strength of my father’s wisdom.  
Karliah, Teldryn and I grew close during this pilgrimage that seemed to have been devised by the beings of Obllvion. We tried to keep each other going, and we slept huddled together every time we had to stop. The winds of this new land were harsher than anything we’d ever felt in our homeland, and I wondered with a deadened sense of curiosity where in Tamriel we could be. We talked about anything to keep from thinking about our lost home, from our history to all of the places we had heard of but never been. “Do you think we’re going to Cyrodiil?” Teldryn asked, and Karliah shook her head. “There’s no way. It’s not cold in Cyrodiil, Tel.” “We’re obviously not going to Black Marsh,” I murmured. “Where else is there?”  
The first time we saw anything but towering black mountains and white winds, we had approached a mountain pass. There were only around two dozen of us left, and we were desperate. As soon as the winds died down, we set up a ragged camp, attempting to build a fire. Of the possessions left of our passed brothers and sisters, we used extra copies of books as kindling, and the blaze was enough to keep us going for the night, even though I felt for sure we wouldn’t survive long enough to make it anywhere. Wherever we were, we were far, far away, and anywhere could have been… well, anywhere, and for all I knew, we were about to walk off the edge of the earth we lived on.   
The last few of us children – which was a term I used loosely now – were huddled together, teeth chattering like no tomorrow, bones numb and weak. Despondence was a familiar feeling at this point. I found myself voicing the hope that I’d be buried by snow before I collapsed or starved to death, and Karliah slapped me, causing me to grit my teeth and swallow, hard. “Don’t you dare,” she spat, eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare say that again. You’re disgracing the others who have died, and you’re disgracing your parents, who sent you here with us so that you could live.” I didn’t have the will say another word.  
The night passed with the rising of the stars, which I watched sullenly, searching for any star I recognized from my homeland as a source of comfort. I found none.   
In the morning, the elders gathered us round. We were in the middle of a mountain pass, and surely there as something on the other side. But because we wouldn’t know anything of this new place, or even the name of the pass, we gave it a name of our own: Dunmeth Pass.   
It was early morning when we broke free of the craggy mountains, into a clearing as white as everything else. Our feet crunched with every step as we trudged on, up until someone motioned for us to stop. We built a camp, relieved that the mountains were gone, and the winds were gone with them. It finally seemed as if we might survive after all. It was eerily silent in this new place, and I was rather bitter about it. We could have at least traveled to a place where something could actually live. The elders had begun to converse excitedly among themselves, like something was happening, when one of them called me over.   
“Laela,” they said, “do you see that wall over there?” I turned to follow their outstretched arms, where across the white plains, a dark, stone wall loomed over everything else. “Laela,” they chirped, “you, Karliah, and Teldryn are going to find out what is behind that wall. Gather some of the possessions we have left and see if there is someone there you can sell them to in order to buy supplies.” I nodded, a bit alarmed that the elders thought that someone would be living behind that wall, let alone someone who would buy our meager baubles and artifacts. But nonetheless, I fetched my friends, and we headed uneasily towards the wall.  
As we got closer, Teldryn stopped, pointing. “That’s… Is that a river?” And it was. But it was almost frozen over. “What…? There can’t be anyone living here if the river is frozen over,” I muttered, frustrated. “Laela,” Karliah murmurs, taking hold of my shoulders and turning me to the left. “There’s a bridge.” Following the bridge with my eyes, I saw that the wall stretched on in both directions, and slowly it dawned on me that this wall was a city. “It’s a city! Kar, Tel, come on!” I cried, hiking my pack over my shoulders and running towards it. “Laela!” they called after me, but once I approached the bridge, it didn’t matter. I skidded to a halt as a building came into view. It was completely different than the way we built our homes and temples in Morrowind. Beside the stone building was a small tent-like construct with a roof of long, wooden planks, and there were weird creatures living in it, being tended to by a light-skinned man with pointed ears, whom I recognized to be of Altmer descent.  
“Rosdoynag,” I stuttered, attempting to get the man’s attention. He turned, and a look of surprise crossed his face. I couldn’t tell if it was because it was early in the morning or because the journey had taken its toll on me. “Rosdoynag,” I repeated, gesturing to him, and he didn’t respond. Maybe he wasn’t a farmer? “Daeljuhn!” I smiled uncertainly. As Karliah and Teldryn caught up, I gestured to them and myself. “Gahduhnaag.” He replied in some form of gibberish that I couldn’t understand, and I bit my lip. “Karliah, how are we supposed to talk to anyone who lives here if they speak an entirely different language than we do?” “I don’t know, but keep trying. He looks like he might know what you’re saying.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Teldryn drawled, rolling his eyes. “It’s obvious he hasn’t got a clue.”   
The man stormed off and brought back another Altmer, a woman, who began to speak with us in the Altmer tongue, which was more similar to ours than the language of the man. We told her we were pilgrims from Morrowind and that we had traveled here after Dagoth-Ur’s eruption. “The Red Mountain?” She asked, and Karliah, Teldryn and I nodded in unison. She turned and began to speak in the other language to the man, whose eyes widened until it looked like they might pop out from his skull. She brought us inside their little stone house, setting us down by the hearth and fussing over us. “We had heard news of the eruption, and even seen the ash clouds from here,” she murmured, “but we didn’t think anyone had survived.” “Where are we?” Karliah asked, which seemed to catch the woman, Arivanya, off guard. “Windhelm,” she stated. “This is Windhelm.” “Wind-Helm?” the three of us tried to emulate the word, which she repeated. “Windhelm.” “Where is Windhelm?” I questioned curiously. This icy land had to have a name.   
“Skyrim,” Arivanya declared, handing us chunks of bread that we devoured hungrily. “You’re in Skyrim now.”


	2. a new home

Once we had satisfied our curiosity, Arivanya took us into the city to buy supplies for the rest of our group. She told us what she knew about Windhelm – that it was the oldest city in Skyrim, and that one man or mer governed it, called a Jarl, rather than a Council with the great Houses. The new Jarl of Windhelm was very young. His father had just passed away, leaving the throne to his son, Ulfric. Arivanya also warned that we were to stay away from the Jarl and his court, if possible. He harboured an extreme dislike for Elven-kind, and while he may not have ever seen a Dunmer before, chances are, he would dislike us just as much as our brethren.  
Teldryn, Karliah and I returned to the others as soon as we could, delivering food, clothing, and potions for the sick, as well as firewood. We told the elders that no one spoke our language, and the only reason we got by at all was because there were a few Altmer tending the stables outside the city. They seemed surprised, angry, even, that nobody could speak to us and we had to be helped. “I think the elders may need an ego check," I would tell Karliah later.   
“We’re going to build a tower,” they told us at dinner one night, “for the others to stay in. There will be others coming here, and they will need a place to send word to family and friends." If we were going to build something, that would mean we’d need more money, and we didn’t have any. So the elders, for the good of the rest of us, sent Karliah, Teldryn and I to work.  
We brought Arivanya with us as a translator. Karliah found work with one of the merchant stalls, an Altmer named Niranye, who also offered to teach us the Nord language. I, to the reluctance of Oengul War-Anvil, got work learning the forge. Teldryn wanted to apprentice with the local arms-man, Torbjorn Shatter-Shield, until he found that Torbjorn taught two-handed fighting rather than one-handed, which didn't suit Teldryn's lithe frame. He mentioned to Arivanya his fondness for Destruction and novice Conjuration magic, and she defiantly told him that the only teacher was the court wizard. She attempted to convince Teldryn to find a different sort of work away from the palace, perhaps at the docks, but he would not be swayed in his decision. He wanted to learn more magic.  
The Palace of the Kings was exactly what you would imagine – a huge, sprawling palace built in dark, weathered stone. The doors on the outside were enormous and looked heavy, and I wondered how on Nirn anyone could get them open without extreme effort. Maybe that was why the guards, who stood scattered about the town with their arms crossed, had bulging arms and chests. The fact that they had muscles the size of sujamma pots was terrifying in itself, but it seemed necessary as it took all three of us to push one of the doors open. The door shut loudly behind us, almost shaking the brick walls as the white winds attempted to blow past the door. According to Arivanya, this was called "snow".   
We ambled almost despondently through the castle, looking for the court mage, receiving odd looks by everyone we passed. It seemed to take forever, but we found him finally – Wuunferth the Unliving. He certainly seemed to live up to his name. His hair was a fading grey, dotted with wisps of silver-white. Arivanya did the talking, hands animatedly gesturing towards Teldryn, and surprisingly, Wuunferth seemed just as excited as Arivanya was. He approached Teldryn, who was visibly nervous, and extended a hand towards him. Glancing at Arivanya, who nodded, Teldryn took the mage’s hand and shook it firmly. “You’re a mage’s apprentice now, Teldryn,” she said, smiling a bit. “Wuunferth warns you, however, that it won’t be easy. You’ll have to work very hard.”  
"That’s fine, that’s fine! I’ll do my very best to learn!” Teldryn replied enthusiastically, a grin painted onto his face. Teldryn's expression made Karliah and I break into a smile as well. It was fantastic to see a close friend happy after the hell we had gone through.  
Feeling accomplished, we left the palace, gathering what food and supplies Arivanya and Ulundil could spare. The others in our group were thankful, too famished and weak to gripe that we asked for help. I carried a few items of clothings and some potions, Teldryn had firewood, and Karliah's knapsack was full of food, which we distributed as best we could. Karliah and I sat near the fire on a bed roll, and Teldryn joined us shortly after, and we split a loaf of bread between us. We talked quietly about our newfound jobs, both excited and nervous with anticipation. "I think whatever we learn, we should teach to each other. It could be really beneficial if we all knew a little about everything in a place like this, you know? Especially since we don't know anything about, well, anything."   
The next morning we collectively untangled ourselves from each other, stoking the fire for the others and grabbing what we thought might be necessary as we headed towards Windhelm. I was feeling a bit anxious - it was going to be difficult to learn something like smithing when I couldn't even speak the local language. I was worried, scared, even. The last thing I wanted was to mess up on the first day. It seemed that so much hinged on my doing well - how could I take care of my people if I couldn't do my job the way I was supposed to? As we approached the gates - which seemed menacing in my manic anxiety - I found myself digging my fingernails into my clammy hands. I felt hot and embarrassed, like I was going to fail no matter what I did or didn't do. Surely there was a bright side. Oengul obviously knew I was foreign and spoke a different tongue. Maybe he would be helpful until I was able to speak for myself. I just hoped that I wouldn't seem like too much of a burden.   
"Karliah," I stuttered, trying to wipe the cold sweat from my hands and brow, "I'm not sure I can do this. I don't know the first thing about smithing. How am I going to learn a new skill and a new language at the same time?" She bit her lip and sighed, and I felt like she was disappointed or pitied me, up until she hugged me tight. "You're smarter than you give yourself credit for, dear. It will be okay. And I'll be right across the way. Don't worry."   
While I didn't feel entirely calmed, I attempted to steady myself as we opened the gates and headed into the city. Teldryn headed toward the castle, bidding us goodbye until the day was through, so Karliah and I went on our own. I didn't think I'd ever get used to the looks we got, like we were creatures straight from a plane of Oblivion and we needed to be banished like daedra. The closer I got to the pounding of a hammer on hot steel, the worse I felt. I was tempted to grab hold of Karliah's hand in a feeble attempt to calm my frazzled nerves, but I couldn't even do that. The forge came into view, as well as the smith who ran it. I swallowed hard and approached Oengul, who turned and said something I hoped was a friendly greeting. I bowed my head as we were taught to do in the presence of our superiors, and he seemed a bit confused, but also pleased. "Remember, Laela. I'll be right there," Karliah's pointed to the stand where Niranye set up shop. "Please come find me if you need help."  
Oengul looked a little uneasy as he picked up a thin slab of a dirty looking metal and held it so I could see. He walked over to the forge and nodded his head to beckon me closer as he plunged the metal slab into the embers. When the metal began to glow a bright yellow-white, he pulled it out with a pair of tongs and took it over to this metal workbench nearby. He took a hammer from the bench and began to strike at the metal, pounding it into a rudimentary shape. It looked like it was supposed to be armor... I hoped that he wouldn't leave it in this odd-looking shape - it wouldn't protect much. But when the metal dulled, he gestured for me to pick up the slab, and put it into the fire. Was he telling me it was my turn to hammer this unknown metal into shape? I wasn't very strong, at least, I didn't think so. But I nodded and shoved the metal into the flames. And then I did as I had seen Oengul do, and I set the metal on the bench, hammer in hand. I looked over my shoulder - was I doing it correctly? He didn't seem to object. So I struck the metal, the sound reverberating through my bones, and I throught, "This might take some getting used to."   
Most of the day went by perfectly fine - I worked on the same piece, hammering it into shape, fitting it, adding straps and re-fitting. I hadn't realized how hard the work was, and now it made sense why there was only one smith - there was no way that smithing was work that just anyone could do. I stood at the workbench inspecting the metal, looking for things I could improve upon. It wasn't exactly the nicest piece of armor plating, but I felt proud nontheless. I secretly hoped that Karliah would be pleased as well, and thought that maybe I could give the armor to Teldryn until my skills were good enough to make something better. I felt like he would appreciate the sentiment.   
Oengul started to speak to me and I felt that same anxiety wash over me again. I stuttered in an attempt to get him to stop until I could get someone to help me understand. I dashed over towards the stand where Karliah stood, speaking excitedly in words I couldn't understand. It seemed that she had been learning the language all day, because she and Niranye were conversing like Karliah has known the language all her life. "Karliah!" I gasped, "I need help. Oengul is talking to me and I don't know what he wants." I was a little worried she would tell me I needed to try and understand him on my own, but she nodded and followed me back to the tall, gruff Nord. Their words were lost to me, as if the bitter winds had carried any meaning away before it could reach my ears.   
"Laela," Karliah tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention. "He says that you've done good work for your first day, and that you should take a break to get something to eat before he teaches you anything else." I bit my lip, wringing my hands together and dipping my head. I felt ashamed that I hadn't grasped a single word at all, while Karliah seemed to be doing so well. Was there something wrong with me? She turned to leave and I grabbed her hand, letting go as soon as I realized I had done so and blushing profusely. She looked at me and seemed a little curious. "Will you help me learn what he's saying?" I asked sheepishly, looking at the cobbled stones beneath my feet. Her eyes softened and she smiled slightly. "Sure."   
It seemed so much easier to learn something new when Karliah was at my side. I found out the metal armor I had forged was made out of a material for which the Nord word was "iron". This was the same thing our "kettles" and "pots" were made of, which we used to cook rabbits and this odd stalk- a plant called a "leek". All of the food was completely foreign to us. Nothing that seemed to live here was what lived on Vvardenfell, which became a little clearer once I stupidly asked if anyone in Windhelm grew ash yams. The grains they used for bread weren't even similar, either - our breads had been made from hardy flaxes, while those of the Nords were made of this light-coloured plant called "wheat". It wasn't just used for bread, either. The same wheat could be used to make alcohol, which they called "ale", or "mead", and it was this awful concoction that made me question if Nords even had a sense of taste. But I supposed what kept you warm at night didn't need to taste good. As Teldryn, Karliah, and I ambled back to camp, talking eagerly about our day, I couldn't help but try and muffle the clinking bottles in my pack.


	3. work

"Laela," a rough accented voice called, "did you finish improving that sword I gave you?" The Dunmer pumped the pedal on the grindstone, nodding.   
"I'm sharpening it right now."   
"Good. When you're finished, let me look it over, and then you can take it back to that cat caravan outside the gates." Laela nodded again, stifling a sigh. She was used to Oengul, talking this way. Most people in Windhelm did. But it still irked her that he couldn't even address the feline merchants as Khajiit, it wasn't difficult to do. At least he had reluctantly come to accept that his apprentice was Dunmer. Laela's three and a half years in Windhelm had been a huge learning experience - and she learned a little more every day. The money she, Karliah, and Teldryn earned working was used to build a tower on the outskirts of the Hold, as a home for the refugees who left Morrowind after them. The elders stayed in the tower, along with some of the older refugees, relying on the trio to deliver supplies. The few who didn't stay splintered off to find their way.   
It was by this time that Karliah had begun to talk of greener pastures, a sentiment that quite frightened Laela every time it was brought up. She knew that Karliah wasn't going to stay forever, but the thought of the trio separating was rather painful.   
Teldryn was doing well with Wuunferth, and Laela was getting by with Oengul. Neither of them liked Windhelm, but they had also never considered leaving. To Laela, it seemed an insurmountable thing, constantly reminding herself that others relied on her to survive. She walked the path to the gates, wondering if there was any way to leave such a cold, desolate place without feeling guilty about it. She drew her dark linen scarf over her mouth. Hopefully there wouldn't be a blizzard tonight.   
Approaching the deerskin tents outside the stables, Laela called out, "Ma'jhad!" Her voice brought the two other caravan members from their tents, ears flicking toward her. "Ah, Laela!” Ma’dran greeted her with a smile.   
“Hello, Ma’dran,” she bowed, “I brought Ma’jhad’s sword.” Ma’dran placed a paw on her back, sweeping her toward another tent, where Ma’jhad sat cross-legged with a book and a bowl filled with chips of a shimmering ivory substance, which he was eating absent-mindedly. As the pair approached, Ma’jhad’s ears flicked up, looking apprehensively at them. “I have your sword,” Laela offered quietly, unbuckling the sheath from her waist and carefully setting it in front of him. Eyes somewhat glazed over, he looked at the sword for a moment before nodding and removing it from the sheath, inspecting.   
“Excellent,” he murmured, pleased with the Dunmer’s work. The Khajiit reached into his nearby knapsack, retrieving a few coins and tucking them into Laela’s hand.   
“Oh! Thank you, Ma’jhad.”   
“Keep them,” he replied. “I am sure you are not paid adequately for your efforts.”  
Laela thanked him again and bid the caravan goodbye, making her way back to the city gates. She felt a little uneasy accepting the meager handful of septims, but Ma’jhad was right. She only received a small amount of money for all the work she did in a day, and if leaving Windhelm was ever going to be an option, she would need to save every coin.  
The rest of her morning was spent sharpening swords belonging to the city guards, who seemed to spend more time fighting each other than doing their job. It was dull, but it needed to be done  the interesting part came when the guards tried to come up with excuses from the dings and scratches in their weapons. It was obvious to Laela they hadn’t been training with straw dummies, and maybe they thought because she was an apprentice, she was stupid. But she nodded, took the weapons, and fixed them up.   
Her break for lunch was short, and she didn’t have time to do anything but eat. A year and a half ago, she would have been able to wander over to check up on Teldryn and Karliah. Now that she had proven she could work the forge, she was expected to devote all of her time to it. Not that she minded  the forge kept the icy chill from freezing her bones, and it made her stronger every day, not to mention the rhythmic pounding of the hammer and pumping the pedal of the grindstone were relaxing.   
That night, Karliah broke the news. She was leaving Windhelm. Karliah was excited, much to Laela’s dismay  but congratulated her despite the sinking feeling in her gut that told her it would be a long time before the two saw each other again. It was going to be Teldryn and Laela now, Karliah was going to make her own path without them now. The lavender-eyed Dunmer wasn’t sure yet where she would go, or what her plans were, but Laela made her promise to write. “Are you sure you want to leave?” She asked, before realizing that this was Windhelm. Of course Karliah wanted to leave. What she meant was, “Are you sure you want to go by yourself?”  
“You know I can take care of myself, Laela. We’ve learned enough from each other that I think I can handle myself. Don’t worry about me.”   
“I know, I know,” Laela nods, masking her anguish and mild frustration. ”I know I couldn’t stop you if I tried.” Pulling her friend into a hug, she murmurs into her shoulder, “Just make sure you write. If you don’t, I can’t promise Tel and I won’t track you down.”   
Karliah laughed softly. “I’ll write. Don’t worry.”  
Laela looked towards Teldryn as she pulled away from Karliah, smiling slightly. “Do you know any spells that will keep her from leaving?” He shakes his head, stepping forward to hug his lavender-irised friend.   
"No, but even if I did, I honestly doubt that it would work on her. Karliah, you stubborn girl. We'll miss you. Probably." He smirked, and Karliah laughed.   
Karliah was prepared to leave the next morning, and they said their goodbyes one last time before she hopped into a carriage and set off. 'Azura guide you, Karliah.'


	4. wondering

“Tel, you’re not seriously considering becoming a sellsword?” Laela stares at her friend, who was eating his stew across from her. He had brought it up just moments before, while they tried to figure out how Karliah had made enough money to leave alone. It didn’t seem possible that Niranye paid well enough with as cheaply as she sold her goods, but there had to have been some way for Karliah to make the journey to… wherever. Karliah didn’t have time for a second job, either. The two were stumped.  
“It pays well, and means I wouldn’t be stuck in Windhelm as often. May find somewhere better to live during my travels.” Teldryn starts to scrape the sides of his bowl with a chunk of bread. He keeps his eyes from meeting Laela’s, who knows he cannoy be swayed in his decision, no matter how risky. “Just think, getting out of these walls for the first time since we got here. It’s been years, Laela.”  
The bitter Dunmer suddenly loses her appetite for the chunks of rabbit meat and leek floating in the broth. She stifles a sigh. “I know. Maybe I’ll take a job at the docks, learn to fix the boats… Can’t be that much harder than smithing, I suppose.”  
Teldryn nods, encouraging. “Don’t worry too much, Laela. We won’t be here forever.” He sets the wooden bowl, now empty, on the table. He smirks. “There are far too many things out there to be stuck in a place like Windhelm.”

 

The wind coming off of the ocean was bitter, and made Laela grit her teeth. Why she thought taking a job as a dockworker was a good idea, she wasn’t sure. She should have at least bought warmer clothes first – hopefully if repairing and unloading ships paid well enough, they wouldn’t be hard to obtain without losing the money she was saving to leave. She still had her blacksmithing job, although working all hours of the night to make up for her dock work during the day was sure to take its toll on her eventually. Cold weather tended to do that, and Windhelm never saw anything but cold weather.  
After a few hours’ work at the docks, she retreated inside the city walls to eat and prepare herself to brave the elements again until the sun set and the weather really reared its’ ugly head. She was dressed as warmly as she could afford, as she spent her last few available septims on a red wool scarf. She promptly wrapped the scarf around her neck as tightly as her windpipe would allow. It was too damn cold for this.  
Only a few hours from now, Laela could warm herself over the white-hot forge. She thought of this like a mantra, to remember what being warm was like. It didn’t help, but it served a purpose. Passing the time was important, although if she was honest, Laela preferred the cold day to the colder night. The night was enough to chill her to the bone, and she had to work until the sun was gone and the stars glittered above her, and even longer after that. She only hoped it would pay off.  
She had to admit that she had learned a lot in a few months of slaving at the docks. She could build or fix almost any boat that crossed her path, but, unlike blacksmithing, she didn’t know what she would do with that knowledge. She didn’t plan on working at the docks her entire life, or at any docks, ever. It was grueling, boring. Nothing like the excitement she dreamed of when she first came to Windhelm. That was nothing more than a childhood fantasy at this point, although she wasn’t much older now than she was when she first dreamt of the cold, walled-in city.  
Working the forge was more tiring than working the docks, but at least at night there was no one to bark orders at her. Just a list of things that needed to be done, items that needed to be made or improved, and then she could sleep. It only took her until the stars began to fade into the morning sky, which left just enough time for exhaustion to take over before she had to wake and go back to work.  
That night when Laela got back to the little room in the Candlehearth Inn that she shared with Teldryn, she found him awake. She was perturbed. “What’s up, Tel? Usually you’re asleep by now.” He blinks and looks at her, shrugging.  
“Tomorrow is my first sellsword gig. It’s safe to say that I’m nervous.” He sighs and fixes his friend a bowl of stew and a chunk of bread. It’s the most they can afford, and for now, it’s enough. Laela removes her scarf, holding it in her hands. She looks at him, and wraps the scarf around his neck.   
“Here,” she murmurs. “Take this. It won’t keep you safe, but it will remind you of me. Hopefully that way you won’t be gone for too long.” She smiles forlornly, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. She starts to eat her stew, too hungry to wait any longer. “I wonder how Karliah is doing,” she says quietly, looking at her solemn friend. Laela was attempting to lighten the mood, but it had the adverse effect. He sighed.  
“I don’t know. Usually she writes before too long. It’s unusual for months to pass without a letter from her. I hope she’s okay.”  
“She’s probably with that Gallus fellow she wrote about last time. She seemed pretty taken with him. Maybe they’ve run off and gotten married.” Laela quips cheerfully, digging her bread into the worn wooden bowl.   
“Don’t be silly. You know Karliah isn’t the type to get married. Besides, she just met the man; we both know she’s not stupid. Gallus may be good for her, but Karliah has always been better off on her own.” Teldryn bites his lip, and Laela nearly drops her bowl.  
“I guess that’s why she left, then,” Laela finishes, eating the last bit of her bread. “Now we don’t have to wonder why.”  
Teldryn rubs his face and sighs. “We don’t actually know that she left because of that, Laela, don’t overreact.”  
She sighs and sets her bowl down. “No, you’re right. But I doubt there’s any other reason.” She laid out the facts in her head. Karliah did work better by her lonesome; but she did love her friends. Why would she up and leave them in a place she knew they all hated? It didn’t make sense to Laela. “Niranye must have helped her. I never thought to ask her, but now I think that I will. She must know why Karliah left.”  
“That’s a good place to start. But don’t you have to work in a few hours? You should be sleeping, shouldn’t you?”  
“Aye,” Laela replies, clambering into her tiny bed and pulling the covers over her body. “You should sleep too, Tel.” He nods and blows out the candles, climbing into bed by light of the small firepit at the center of the room.  
“Laela?”  
“Hm?”  
“Thanks for the scarf.”


	5. introduction

“Running a little light in the pockets, are we lass?” questions a charming voice in The Bee and Barb. This was the question that would end up changing my life, and it came from a grungy-looking ginger whose clothes didn’t seem to be his. I frowned and told him he had no idea what he was talking about, but he was right. Traveling here from Windhelm had been costly, and I was running out of gold. I didn’t expect to be able to eat tomorrow night. And though this stranger who seemed to know I was poor and desperate repulsed me, I was also curious. So I followed his vague instructions.  
Riften was rather brisk at eight in the morning, and I pulled my linen scarf tighter around my neck. I hoped Teldryn was okay. Windhelm was still colder than Riften by far, but my clothes were old and ragged, torn and singed from hard work and five years’ growth. I handed the last of my septims to Snilf and Edda right as the redhead approached. “I’m going to test your skills, lass. All you have to do is plant some false evidence.” For a split second, I considered walking off and finding some sort of actual work to do, but as I looked him in the face, I felt compelled to listen, and found myself nodding.  
“Just tell me who.”   
I had talked to Brand-Shei before, curious to meet a Dunmer I didn’t recognize. But any hopes I may have had of a friendship were somewhat dashed when I found out he wasn’t raised in Vvardenfell. At least I didn’t feel as bad about the notion of framing him. I thought fondly of Karliah while picking the lock to Madesi’s strongbox, remembering when she taught Teldryn and I all you could accomplish with a good lockpick. I wondered briefly if she and Gallus were getting along well, as I hadn’t gotten a letter from her in some time. My gut told me she was doing just fine. She had always been resourceful and creative, and from what I knew of Gallus, she was also in capable hands.  
I was only marginally worried about being caught – the adrenaline left me fearless, and as soon as the ring was planted I stood outside the commons, waiting for whatever was going to come next. And according to the redhead, all I had to do was meet him beneath the city at night, so I did. As the heavy door to the Ragged Flagon swung open, I wondered if the man, who still had yet to introduce himself to me, knew that there were two rogues in the tunnels. It didn’t matter- they were dead now, even if they had been trying to make ends meet like I was.  
I approached the bar and sat down, wondering if this was actually where I was supposed to meet the ginger. The barkeep was wiping down a few tankards while he looked me over. “Been a long time since anyone’s come down here,” he said. I must have looked surprised, because he continued. “Guild’s fallen on hard times. The Flagon used to be filled with men and women, drinking to their success.” A tap on my shoulder distracted me from the barkeep’s story, and I apologized to him before turning to face the redhead who found me.  
“Glad to see you made it in one piece,” he chuckled softly, and began to walk towards the back of the Flagon, past a door.   
“Speaking of,” I follow him and watch him swing a cabinet open like a door, revealing a back room. “You didn’t happen to know about those two rogues down there, did you? I hope they weren’t part of your Guild.” He looks at me curiously. “They’re dead,” I finish, blinking.   
He looks taken aback, disappointed even. “We don’t kill in the Thieve’s Guild, lass. It’s not our way. But no, whoever they were, they weren’t one of us.”  
I shrugged. “If I wasn’t supposed to kill them, they shouldn’t have attacked me.” I pause and look around. “Where are you taking me?”  
“To meet our leader, Mercer Frey.”  
“And then what?”  
“Then you get your first job.”  
“You’re going to give me a job, when you haven’t even told me your name?”  
“You haven’t exactly told me your name either, lass.”  
“Laela,” I huffed, mildly frustrated. “And you are?”  
The redhead extends his hand. “The name’s Brynjolf. Welcome to the Thieve’s Guild.”

\------

“You’ve done a great job, lass,” Brynjolf tells me, excited. “Even our little Vex couldn’t get into Goldenglow.” I smile softly, blushing slightly. He continues. “Obviously I was right in recruiting you. You’ve been good to our little Guild.”  
“Thank you, Brynjolf,” I reply quietly, averting my gaze. “I really couldn’t have done it without Vex’s intel, though, so thank her. I just used a little more muscle than I did brains, that’s all.” I had snuck through the place about as quietly as possible, it was true, but when it came to force, I wasn’t afraid to use it. This kept Aringoth in his place, and my pockets full of gold. It made Maven, the mysterious entity I had yet to meet, happy too – which I had been assured was a good thing for her to be, and better happy than angry. Better to be alive than dead, I assured myself. As I looked around at my new friends and comrades, I decided that I was right. It was definitely better to be alive than dead.


	6. not enough mead

“How are you doing on the jobs, lass?”  
“Better. Getting the hang of the work, actually. Although I may have to get some intel on the mark. I haven’t been able to get close enough to size him up myself.”  
“Talk to Maul. He’ll be able to set you straight.”   
I grimaced visibly. Talking to Maul was definitely not something I wanted on my to-do list. He was rougher than the sandpaper they used on boats at the docks, and harsh - not to mention that he knew something about everyone. That made him creepier than I personally could tolerate. But he was polite to people he knew, as long as you didn’t cross lines or were in good standing with Maven.   
Maul was at his usual haunt by the docks, so I approached like I had every right to be there. If I was honest, he made me nervous – I didn’t want to have to take him on in a fight, but I didn’t know where his boundaries lie. Better not to find out, I thought, as he nodded to me once. “What did you want to know?” He asks, voice gritty and rasping.  
I refuse to let myself stutter, so I widen my stance and look firmly up at him. He smirks. He knows I’m intimidated. “I need some info on this mark. I’m doing a job for Maven, but I’ve never gotten to see the guy up close so I can’t get a read on him. What do you know?”  
He sizes me up, nodding, as if he approves that I need his help. Or, maybe he knows that if I fail this job, Maven gets my head and I can say Maul was being ‘uncooperative’. It didn’t matter. “He lives near Riften. If you show me your map I can point it out to you. He’s usually gone but he has a job at the meadery if you want to hit him there.”  
“Thank you,” I respond, pulling out my map. Maul marks it with a small dot, which I’ll remember for a while. “You’ve been a big help.” I add as I begin to walk away, folding my map up and slipping it back into my knapsack.  
“Remember,” he calls out to me, making me turn over my shoulder, “Slip up and I’ll gut you like a fish.”  
“Thanks, Maul,” I mutter under my breath. “Really, truly inspiring.”  
Thanks to Maul’s (unfortunately) helpful intel, I found the house empty the next morning. I was better dressed, and wasn’t cold for the first time since Vvardenfell blew. Looking out over the horizon, I wondered where it was, but I couldn’t see anything over the tangled mess of autumn trees. Time to get to work.  
The house was barely furnished, which was odd for a house in Riften, even for someone as poor as the mark was. Usually they spent what little money they had on decorations or ornaments, this house barely had furniture. I felt too exposed, so I kept to the corners of the room while I searched for my target.   
It was a wonder anyone this poor could own a safe like this, I thought, cracking it open easily with a sensitive ear to the locking mechanism. I planted the evidence and shut the safe with a satisfying click. It was fortunately no matter to get out of the house and back to the Guild, and it only took me half an hour. I handed Vex what she wanted and took my gold, settling down at the bar and paying for a tankard of mead. “When you’re finished with that,” Vekel hands me a tankard and a bottle of mead, “Brynjolf was looking for you. Something about a special job or something.”  
I hand him a little extra in gold and thank him, uncorking my mead and pouring it into the clean tankard. It’s Black-Briar Reserve, the best Vekel has, and I make sure not to down it too quickly. After all, it’s costly for him to stock it and it’s about all I want to drink after nights and nights of the swill I got in Windhelm. It doesn’t do too much to get me drunk, but that matters less to me after a while – I learned to enjoy the taste of mead, even though better things existed, Colovian brandy, for example.  
“I hear you finished planting that evidence for Vex,” Brynjolf purrs, sitting down next to me. I’m a bit taken aback by his tone, but I nod.  
“News travels fast around here,” I reply, taking another sip of my mead. He shrugs and orders mead as well.  
“When someone like you shows up and does the work you have in only a few days, news will travel fast. You’re helping us get back on our feet, we all appreciate it in more ways than you think,” he looks at me, and there’s something in his eyes that I find attractive. So I look away. Nothing to be gained by sleeping with people you work for, I’ve always told myself. Not that Brynjolf would be interested, I remind myself quietly – he probably had some girl he chased around for ages already. Tonilia, maybe? They looked cute together.  
“How’s Tonilia?” I find myself asking, and Vekel looks at me as if he’s about to speak. He blinks, unsure. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to say that,” I chuckle nervously. Idiot. Vekel nods, and Brynjolf slaps me hard on the back.   
“You’ve got a lot more to learn about this place, lass.” He smirks, obviously catching onto my embarrassing notion.  
“So teach me,” I venture bravely, and catch him off-guard. He looks about as flustered as I feel, and downs some more mead. I emulate the gesture, signing for another. Time to get drunk and pass it off as nothing. It most certainly wasn’t nothing.   
“You’re a piece of work, Laela,” Brynjolf says, and it makes me nervous. That’s the first time he’s used my name since I told it to him. I blush and bite my lip. He could undo me at any moment, and he’s just peeling paint off the walls. “You’re sitting here and flirting with me in broad daylight and you aren’t even drunk. What are you getting at?”  
“Nothing,” I mutter, uncorking my mead and drinking it straight from the bottle. Was I transparent yet? It certainly felt that way, his eyes looking straight through me as I attempt to hide behind the dark blue glass bottle in my hand. I stifle a hiccup and look at him. His eyes are lidded, impressed.   
“You hold your mead better than anyone here,” he says, and I laugh.  
“I’ve only had one bottle, I don’t know who the hell you’ve been drinking with.” He chuckles.   
“I had a job for you, but it looks like something else has gotten in the way,” he muses, pulling me aside. My heart is pounding in my chest. ‘My mead’, I think for a moment, before my brain establishes the situation I’m in. Brynjolf is very close to me, almost close enough that I can faintly smell the mead in his breath.   
“Can I still do the job?” I ask nervously, looking up at him. He’s taller than me, but being a Dunmer, even as tall as I was, who wasn’t?   
He’s giving me that look again, the one that makes my heart palpitate and my palms sweaty. “What job? I was just thinking about how nice it would be to kiss those pretty lips of yours.” Oh. So that’s how it was. I wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t with Tonilia. I could kiss him right now and get away with it. And something in me nagged to do it. But I couldn’t force myself to do it, even if I wanted to.  
He leans in, hot breath in my face, which would normally repulse me, but now I’m just hot and uncomfortable. “I, uh… I don’t think you want to do that.” I stutter.  
“Why not?”  
“I am known for being a fantastically bad kisser,” I lie through my teeth, hoping to end this awkward situation. He tilts his head. “We’ll see about that.” He kisses me, and I push my lips against his softly before pulling away. ‘Remember, Laela, don’t romance coworkers.’ My thoughts ring out, and I suddenly feel very, very stupid. But my cheeks are flushed and my breathing is rapid, and Brynjolf is looking at me with this stupid smirk on his face.  
“Fantastically bad kisser, my arse. Laela, you could put my lips out of business.”  
I giggle nervously, the kind of giggle that you follow up with a sigh or a palm to the face. “Don’t flatter me, I don’t need the ego boost,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “Besides, your lips obviously aren’t in business, or you wouldn’t have kissed me.”  
“True,” he replies, thoughtfully. “You’re so sure I’m not the type to chase girls around, are you?”   
“Only if they’ve all got something worth stealing. Hearts aren’t worth much on the market, believe me.” I sigh and return to my spot at the bar, thoroughly embarrassed. I down my mead, with no regard to Vekel or his feelings. I wanted to forget that the entire Flagon might have seen Brynjolf kiss me. Vekel seems impressed, as I order my third bottle of mead, and I ask him if he’s got any brandy. He doesn’t, since no one drinks it, but he offers to order some especially for me. I thank him and offer to pay him now. He shakes his head. “Don’t blow your gold, you’ll regret it when the jobs run dry.”  
Brynjolf sits back at the bar, finishing off his mead before he stands back up. “I’ve got important business to attend to,” he starts, looking at me. The blush is gone from his cheeks, and he’s formal, all business, once again. “We’ll speak another time.”  
‘Of course,’ my brain chides, ‘he didn’t get the goods, so now he’s leaving you hanging. Typical.’ I shake my head. It didn’t matter. The Guild thought nothing of me as it was, except for maybe a slight bit of fatherly fondness from Delvin. So their opinions, if applicable, weren’t worth the trouble. I thank Vekel for the mead and sit down next to Delvin. He pushes a piece of paper over the table towards me.   
“Got some work to do. You in?”  
“Always.”


	7. pet names included

“Olfrid sent ahead his compliments. Said he was happy you could pull the job off without a hitch.” I sit myself at the table across from Delvin, where he smiles warmly at me. “You’ve done a great job getting the Guild back on its’ feet. I appreciate what you’ve done around here.”  
I find myself thanking Delvin for his warm demeanor. “It really means a lot to me that you’re so appreciative. I’m trying my best.”  
“I know, sweetheart. You’ve done a lot for our little guild. Even Vex is proud of you.”  
“Really?” That came as a surprise to me. Vex was stone-faced and cold all the time. It didn’t seem weird for Delvin to call me sweetheart, as he had taken to doing, what seemed weird was Vex being proud of me. I would never ask her if that was true, because I knew she would never admit it, but if it came from Delvin, it had to be the honest truth. “I’m glad. I don’t feel as though I’m doing that well lately.”  
“Want to talk about something?” He asks me, and I shake my head.  
“Not a lot to say. I’m just trying to deal with Brynjolf. He’s been after me to do a specific job for him, and it makes me uneasy.”  
“I would say to talk to him about it, find out exactly what it is he wants you to do. If you don’t like it, obviously you don’t have to do it. He can’t make you do a job for him, he’s not in charge of you.”  
This little bit of information makes me feel a bit better, and I thank him, taking my leave. It was time to talk to Brynjolf.

 

I find Brynjolf in the cistern, poring over the ledgers at Mercer’s desk. He looks surprised as I approach. “About that job,” he begins, and I cut him off abruptly.  
“You’re going to need to tell me what you’re planning if you actually expect me to do any work for you.” I look up at him and plant myself firmly on the ground. He nods, a bit uncertain.  
“I was actually going to say that it doesn’t really need to be done for a while, so I was going to let up on asking you about it. All I wanted you to do was steal something personal for me. It’s a private matter, but not one I can handle myself.”  
I nod and blink warily. That couldn’t be all there was to it, but the more I pressed, the more he insisted that there was nothing to the job. I found myself asking, “Why do you want me to do it?”  
He looks at me, shrugging slightly. “I like you. You’re a good girl, lass, not to mention a good thief.” He sighs and steps away from the desk. “To be honest, I just don’t trust anyone else with this job.”  
“You barely know me, what’s the difference? You’ve worked with some of these people for years, I’ve only been here a few months.”  
“Yes, that’s true. But I’ve been hoping to get to know you better. Maybe we can spend a day getting to know each other?” He asks me, hopefulness glinting in his eyes. I couldn’t turn down a face like that even if I tried.   
“Okay,” I find myself saying, “How about tomorrow?” Part of me knows I have work to do tomorrow, but I silence that little voice and smile a bit. He nods.   
“Tomorrow.”

\-------

I wake up from my bed in the cistern and hesitated to pull on my armor. Both it and I needed a good washing, but I didn’t trust the water in the cistern for even a second. Maybe I would have a bath later in the lake, I thought, looking around. Or, maybe I could do it now. I wouldn’t be seeing Brynjolf for a while, so I had time. That, and I didn’t want to smell awful when meeting him. I had to be honest with myself – I didn’t want to make a bad impression.  
The docks around the lake were completely empty, and I pulled off my clothes and dove into the cold water. Shivering, I took the scrap of soap I had and lathered it into my hair and scrubbed my body. As soon as I felt clean, I took the soap and started to scrub my armor clean. I’d have to let it dry before I could wear it, but it didn’t matter. I was starting to feel claustrophobic in the thing, it was slightly too small.  
When I was finished, I clambered up onto the docks and got dressed in the clean clothes I had brought. I felt much better, I decided, wringing my hair out into the water. When I got back to the cemetery, I pushed the button that opened the hidden door and watched it slide open. I wondered idly how the Guild had gotten the door to work that way – it was something to marvel over – and I found myself staring every time I had to use the coffin door.   
I hung my armor over the screen that separated my bed from everyone else’s and sat down on the bed. If the job I had gotten wasn’t in Whiterun, I would be willing to work before I met up with Brynjolf. But there was certainly no time for that now, so I had a bit of time to kill. I looked at my knapsack, and smiled. Time to make some gold.  
Tonilia sat at her usual spot in the middle of the storage crates. I wanted to know what was in the crates, but felt that if I asked, I wouldn’t get an answer. So I didn’t ask. It was probably for the better that way. I opened my knapsack and sat across from her on a crate. “What can I do for you?” She asks, almost rudely, and I blink. Did she always use that tone with the Guild, or was it just me?   
“I have some gems here that I’d like to sell,” I begin, handing one of them to her. She examines it for me, even though I’ve already had Vex appraise them, and hands me an empty satchel, motioning for me to hold it open. As I hand her each gem, she adds some gold to the bag, and by the time I’m finished, I’m at least a thousand gold richer. “Thank you,” I offer, hoping to soften her tone, and she nods.   
I keep my gold in the small cabinet by my bed. I hadn’t decided what I was saving it for, but I was saving it for something big. Maybe a house – I could cement my journey to Skyrim by buying a house. Maybe Honeyside was for sale… I would have to find out.  
“Something on your mind, lass?” A familiar voice asks, and I look up to find Brynjolf watching me carefully.   
I shake my head and stand up to greet him. “Not really. Just thinking about buying a house once I’ve saved up the gold.”   
“A house? Really, lass? Sounds like a solid investment.”   
I blush at the notion, nodding. “I thought so.” I find my eyes tracing his body, slowly. He blinks and looks down at me, flushing almost imperceptibly. “I was going to see the Jarl later about purchasing Honeyside,” I tell him while checking to see if my armor had dried any. It hadn’t.   
“Washed up this morning, did you?”   
“Aye. Armor and all. It needed a good cleaning, since it doesn’t fit well, it rubs in all the wrong places.”  
He looks at me, concerned. “Why didn’t you say something? We have some pieces lying around that might fit you.”  
His concern makes me feel a bit better. “The boots fit,” I offer quietly, and he shakes his head.  
“Not good enough. I know a tailor who owes me a favor, maybe I can get your armor fixed up for you.”   
I blush and watch him carefully for any signs of deceit. There are none. “Okay,” I blink, and wave my hand at my armor. “But it’s still wet, so it will have to wait. Where did you want to go today?”  
“I get a discount at the Black-Briar Meadery, and I know you love their Reserve, would you like to grab a drink?”  
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I tease him, and he blushes.  
“I… er… not intentionally. I just was curious. We can do something else if you’re not interested-“   
“The meadery is fine, Bryn,” I tell him, blushing as I realize I just gave him a pet name. He doesn’t seem to mind, as he breaks out into a smile and offers his hand.   
“Alright, Lae,” he replies, still smiling. “Let’s go.”


	8. breaking in a house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has mild sexual scenes. Please be mature.

“One Black-Briar Reserve, please.” I order softly, and Brynjolf sits next to me.  
“Two,” he adds, flashing a smile at the mousey elf boy behind the counter. “So, lass,” he starts, looking at me. “How have the jobs been treating you?”  
The Bosmer behind the counter hands us our mead, and I uncork mine, taking a swig. “Alright enough, honestly. I’ve been making good money and I’m happy to see the Guild doing better,” I reply, watching the elven boy wipe down the counter with a nervous look on his face. “Are you alright?” I find myself asking, and he nods, almost like he’s got a hand in his back.   
Brynjolf shrugs and takes a sip of his mead, looking at the Bosmer and then at me. “You’ve been doing well,” he murmurs, tapping the bar top idly.   
I blush softly. “Thank you, Brynjolf,” I take another sip of my mead. “How has work been for you?”  
He folds his arms and looks at me with a bored expression. “I’ve been balancing books and ledgers for Mercer, so I haven’t gotten out into the field lately. I’m itching to get back out there and get my hands on something good. Priceless, I’m hoping. Nothing like stealing a priceless gemstone or artifact to keep you busy.”  
I laugh and nod. “I understand. Maybe Delvin will give me a job where you can tag along,” I find myself telling him, playing with my fingers before taking a drink to steady myself. I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear nervously and look at him. He nods.  
“That sounds nice, I think. It’ll be nice to watch our best thief at work,” he compliments, making me blush.   
“You’re flattering me, Bryn. It’s unlike you.”  
“No it’s not. When there’s a girl like you around, hell, when I work with a girl as talented as you, I have to tell her.”  
I smirk and take another drink. “And how many talented girls have you hit on like this?”  
“Just you.”  
My palms are suddenly sweaty and I find myself wiping my hands on my trousers. What? “Did I hear you right?” I choke out, wringing my hands. He’s only flirted with me?  
“Aye,” he replies, concern flashing across his face. “Are you alright, Laela?”  
“I’m fine,” I reply, lying just a bit. I wipe my hands again and look at him. “I just… wow. I really had you pegged as the type to flirt with any girl who catches your eye.”  
“No, I’m not like that,” he replies, staring holes into my face. “I genuinely like you, lass- Laela. You’re a great girl, and you already know I think you’re a great thief. Better than Vex.” He takes a sip of his mead and side-eyes me. “You’re easy on the eyes, too.”  
I blush, hard. “T-thanks, Bryn.” I attempt to recover from stuttering by adding, “So are you.”  
He smiles at me, grabbing my hand. “Let’s go.”  
“Go where?”  
“To buy your house, lass. You’ve earned it.”

\-----

Honeyside is nicely furnished, and Iona, my new housecarl, a girl with hair as bright as Brynjolf’s, stands at attention, waiting for me to need something. I dismiss her for a while and look at the house key in my hand. It’s more than I thought it would be, and I find myself blinking back tears.   
“You alright, lass?” Brynjolf looks at me, mildly concerned.  
“Aye. I just… I’ve wanted a house for a while, but to actually own it is just surprising for me. I didn’t think it would happen for a while yet.” He nods and takes my hand, pulling me close.   
“Don’t worry about it. The place is yours now.” He looks down at me, leans in slowly, and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Like I said before. You’ve earned it.”  
I blink back the last of the water in my eyes and lean up to kiss him slowly. “Thank you,” I whisper upon pulling away. He shushes me and leans in again, kissing me deeply. I mumble into his mouth and he pulls away, blushing slightly.  
“Yes?” He asks, and I shake my head. It’s nothing. I’m just finally kissing the man who has been flirting with me for the past three months, and it feels so good. I pull him back to my mouth by his hair, and he moans softly. Gods, he sounds and tastes divine. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into him, licking my lips.  
He finds his way to the bed and pulls me onto his lap, kissing me fervently and greedily, like he needs my lips on his. His breath is ragged and his hands are on my cheeks, stroking softly. He lays me down and pulls my tunic off, kissing me everywhere he can reach. “You’re gorgeous,” he breathes, and my face flushes.   
I nibble at his neck and start to undo the straps on his armor. He helps me, and together we pull his armor off, tossing it onto the floor. It stays there the rest of the night. His hands are tangled in my hair, and he kisses my neck, down to my breasts and kisses so softly. He pulls off my trousers and nightclothes and pushes me into the bed, hard, unbuckling his trousers and pulling them off. We’re both naked and breathing hard against each other, a tangled mess of limbs. He licks my ear and I moan softly against the skin of his neck, biting down to muffle my noises. He moans and bites me back, in retaliation. When we’re both moaning and run ragged, he positions himself over me and enters.  
He moans my name.


	9. skooma

“Erikur assures me Captain Volf will be spending the rest of his life clapped in irons.”  
If I was honest, I felt a little bad about that. But part of me didn’t want to be honest, it wanted to act like the no good, lying thief that I was. “I framed him,” I murmured quietly.   
“Aye, sweetheart, that you did. And the Guild is better for it.”   
“Was that the right thing to do? I mean, I didn’t even know the man.”  
Delvin smiles a bit. “Don’t worry too much about it. Just having something like Balmora Blue is illegal in Skyrim, he would have gotten what was coming to him anyhow.”  
I nod, ignoring the burning feeling in my gut. The small bottle was tucked away in a safe in Honeyside. I couldn’t get caught with something like that. It had to be disposed of somehow.  
“What’s so bad about Balmora Blue that it’s illegal here? I don’t remember ever hearing about it in Vvardenfell.”  
“It’s made from Moon Sugar, so it’s a bit like Skooma. That’s about all I know, except that it’s stronger than the stuff any Khajiit caravan can sell you. It’s probably good for a night of drinking, unless smoking it is more your thing. I’ve done my fair share of Skooma, and let me tell you, the stuff isn’t worth the trouble.”  
I nod and tuck away his advice for later use. “Thanks for the information,” I tell him, and I leave. I had some evidence to destroy.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The door to Honeyside opens and Brynjolf comes in, looking around for me, I assume. “Lass?” He calls, before turning to see me sitting on the bed, drinking.   
“Yes, love?” I slur, smiling. It’s obvious I’m drunk. “C’mere and sit on the bed with me.” I tell him, patting the spot on the bed next to me.  
He smirks. “Had one too many, I assume?”  
I shake my head. “Nope. I had some of that Balmora Blue I framed Captain Volf with. I figured the best way to get rid of it was to drink it, since I don’t have a pipe.”  
Brynjolf nods, sitting on the bed and pulling me into his arms, nestling his face in my neck. “Smart move, lass. It’d be a shame to let something that good go to waste in a footlocker at the bottom of the sea.”  
“How’d you know?” I giggle, resting in his arms.  
"Delvin told me, lass." Brynjolf strokes my hair, rocking us both softly.  
"Having fun?" I ask quietly, smiling. He nods, tightening his grip on me. I wrestle myself from his grip just long enough to grab the bottle of Balmora Blue. I hold it up for Brynjolf to see. "There's still some left, if you want it," I offer the bottle to him, and he obliges, drinking what's left, spluttering afterward. I curl up in his arms and kiss his jawbone, smirking. "That happened to me, too. Don't worry about it."  
He chuckles. "Burns a bit, but it's smooth. Never knew Moon Sugar could make a fine drink."  
"You've obviously never had Skooma. It's awful, unless you smoke it. It's so sweet it makes your stomach churn."  
He looks at me, eyes flashing concern. "You've done Skooma, Laela?"  
"I used to live in Vvardenfell, of course I've done Skooma. What else is a rebellious teen supposed to do? You can't skip out on religious ceremonies without a punishment. Not that you would skip a ceremony anyway - they're too important, and if you're absent, it's considered a disgrace to your ancestors."  
"I see," he replies, wrapping me in his arms once more. "So you did Skooma as a teen? But you're barely twenty-five now, lass, that wasn't too long ago."  
"No, but I didn't do it often, so I never really got addicted to it like most people do. I outgrew it rather quickly." I grab a bottle of mead and uncork it, handing it to Brynjolf. He accepts and offers me a sip. The mead is sweet but also bitter, and I swallow graciously. "Thank you, love," I tell him, and settle into his arms. He shrugs.   
"You share with me, why not do the same?" He drinks the mead quickly, as if he's trying to catch up with me. "How many did you have, love?"  
"Including the Balmora Blue, six." I knew my tolerance was high, but the Balmora Blue had me wrecked.   
"Six?" Brynjolf says almost incredulously, "That's quite a few. You're lucky that stuff doesn't affect you the way it does humans. You'd have vomited by now with that Skooma in your system along with mead."  
"I know. But Dunmer don't tend to drink like Nords anyway. Just me as far as I know, maybe that sellsword in Whiterun."  
"Aye, lass, I understand. But you've got me beat, I can't drink six bottles AND a stronger kind of Skooma. Which is unlike me to even try." He smirks at me. "You're a bad influence on little old me."  
It was my turn to smirk. "If I remember right, it was you who influenced me badly, getting me to join the Guild when I didn't even know your name."  
"You were up for it, you know I didn't pressure you. I couldn't have, with a face like yours."  
"Shut up," I laugh, hitting him with a pillow. He smiles and pulls me close.   
“Aye, we influence each other badly. Agreed?”  
“Agreed. You’re awful. You could charm me into doing anything.”  
He looks at me, eyes half-lidded. “Anything?”  
I nod, voice lilting just slightly. “Anything.”


End file.
